Chikkalveedu Oommen Mathai from Kottarakara. His father Oommen, was a vakil goomastha to grandfather, Kannadi Vakil Swami, practicing in Kottarakara. For long Oommen pestered Vakil Swami to put in a word to his son-in-law, me father, to get son a job in Calcutta. Calcutta, Bombay and New Delhi were the US, Gulf and New Zealand of today. Assuring rainbows in pockets. A 20sh Chikkalveedu Oommen Mathai (C.O. Mathai) dropped anchor in Lake Temple Road, near our home. Got a job which did not promise rainbows in pockets; graduated, mastered; would read business books near the Lakes when there was no Rabindra Sarobar stadium while me roamed around, doing nothing and happy. After all the degrees got a job in LIC; a few strands of rainbows in pockets. In the evenings worked as a clerk in Rasika Ranjana Sabha with Raja anna. They were close. Every year would go to Kottarakara for at least 15 days; returning, carry fresh, home made bags of banana, jackfruit and yam chips; tapioca papads and ordinary papads; he would come home, place the fresh stocks, and stand in a corner. He never took a seat when father and mother were home; and as they were always at home, he stood and talked to mother of Kalyani, Karthiyani, father Oommen, mother. Every year till he got transferred, landed up as an officer in the LIC offices at Trivandrum, a 52 km bus ride from Kottarakara. He was happy being near his dear village Kottarakara, naadu. He had made it to Kottarakara. He was kind and lovable. He died. Lies buried in some churchyard. He never missed the Church on Sundays. Others were not as lucky. Me grandmother and Kannadi Vakil Swami yearned for Kottarakara. Ashramam village was all for father. Every book of his had Ashramam village under his signature. Mother wanted to be in Calcutta. Their imaginations had many homes; when in trouble they retreated to their homes to live for a few moments. Like me does today. Aspro tablets on a down and out day. Have visited Kottarakara, me birth place, twice in my life when young. But the single track railway line and the railway station with sacks of farm produce, the temple pond, the Munnu Randal Mukku (Three Lamp corner) near the pond, the picking up of a copy of The Hindu by the lone afternoon bus, vadas and idlis free at Alamelu hotel, the chandai and grandmother handing over an anna to buy what pleased. No electricity, no tapped water; the tiled home facing the Shiva temple, had seven rooms; the kitchen at the back opened to farmlands and a well. There were no cars, two or three bullock carts; sometimes an elephant would stride by, clean up many appams packed in banana leaves, a dip in the temple pond... Kottarakara comes to me again and again. Not Calcutta, not Bombay. Can provide more details but that may be boring. And the night when sleep is absent, Kottarakara comes in welcome relief. When Rama and me with Kurup and Sugatha went to Kottarakara in 2013, our home was walled from the temple. Kottarakara had turned a medium size Mall. Sufficient reason for me to stick to a rainbow born in Kottarakara.
